


Moving On

by commanderlurker



Series: Cats, the V is silent [17]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Pining, moving on after a break up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-26 17:08:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20933741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/commanderlurker/pseuds/commanderlurker
Summary: Cats and Theron try to move on after the events on Nathema and their subsequent breakup.





	Moving On

First morning after Theron’s been discharged and he has nothing better to do than go to the a.m. briefing. He hasn’t been granted his permissions or clearances so he’s going in blind. He’s not surprised.

He walks in and Cats is there gripping a mug of caf like it's all that's keeping her alive. She doesn't look at him. His heart aches.

Senya notes his presence with a nod.

Koth glares at him. "What's he doing here."

A week of cold shoulders from almost everyone makes Theron snap when he should just keep his head down. "If it wasn't for me, there'd be no Alliance left."

"You destroyed the Gravestone!"

"Is that all you care about?"

Cats whistles real loud. "Koth, shut up. Theron, shut up."

She sighs and rubs her temple like she just gave herself a headache. “Read the report, okay? We’re moving on.” Moving on from the conversation and moving on from the last eight months.

The report is what Theron’s spent the last three days writing from his med bay bed. He hates reports as much as he hates sitting around being idle.

He leaves the meeting without any tasks assigned to him. It’s too soon to ask for something to do, but he risks resorting to begging if he can’t get involved with something soon.

*

“Republic and Imperials leave in droves every day, returning to their own sides.” Lana states the facts, emotionless, but Cats can tell she’s hurting. Everything Lana built, all the politicking, the promises. Broken. “We have nothing left to offer. I fear we will soon be forced to choose a side as well.”

“We’ve still got Hylo and Oggurobb,” Cats offers. “Information counts for something.”

“Yes, but not enough.”

“Meanwhile, Zakuul still needs our help,” Koth says. His arms are crossed. “We can’t ignore them.” They’re his people. Cats gets that.

“And what are we going to feed them with, hmm?” Lana snipes.

“How’s their interim government going?” Theron asks. His voice makes Cats’ heart go funny.

“Shit,” Lana, and Koth say at once.

“We never needed to rule ourselves. Even our local governments were all assigned and run by the Emperor,” Koth says.

A snort or cough catches in Theron’s throat. Cats glares at him, willing him to not say whatever stupid thing he’s thinking. He wisely keeps his mouth shut, but making eye contact hurts. It shouldn’t hurt to look at someone.

“We must continue supporting them,” Lana says. “It won’t be long before the Empire makes a play for the planet and we can’t let them take over.”

“What about the Republic?” Theron asks. “They’re not perfect but they’re better than the alternative. I could find someone to help with the transition.”

“No. Zakuul will remain independent.” Koth, as proud as ever.

“You want to run the planet then?” Theron, you were doing so well.

Cats thinks, but doesn’t say, _Independent,_ _just like Voss_. The argument continues. Cats blocks it out, rubbing her temples and staring through the galaxy map. She never wanted this. Never wanted any of this. She never should have accepted Marr’s invitation. Never should have answered that distress call from Ziost. Never should have accepted Theron Shan’s cryptic party invitation all those years back. But if she thinks like that, then she never would have done anything at all. “I need a break,” she says, not caring who she’s interrupted or whatever they were arguing about.

She waves off offers of assistance and walks through the base, boots clanging on the floor, all the way out to the_ Majestic Princess_. The door slides open. She clomps though, doing a complete one point five circuit before finding the cockpit. She slides into the captain’s chair and just sits. Hands on her lap. Feet propped up. Space, hyperlanes, stars. They’re just up there, past the blue of Odessen’s atmosphere. Press a couple of buttons, nudge a lever, and she could be up there, away from all this.

Footsteps echo on the deck. Corso. She knows his tread. He sits down in the co-pilot's chair.

“Hey, Captain,” he says. He reaches out and Cats takes his offered hand. “Where to next?”

She doesn’t have a joke or a snarky answer. Just the stars. And they’re so far away.

*

Arcann is the Alliance’s best asset now. Zakuul demands his return. Cats isn’t prepared to hand him over until she’s sure he won’t just be torn to pieces by a mob as soon as he lands. She’s not sure why she cares. Then she sees Senya and remembers. She can’t let Senya lose all of her children. So she says yes, we will return Arcann once you have a stable government. How’s that for diplomacy?

*

Cantina’s busy tonight. Cats sits at a table, alone, spinning a credit chit. Someone shoves Theron as he watches her. His drink slops over the glass. They don’t apologise. They glare. He should just leave. He’s not welcome here.

No. He’s still a part of the team. Cats said so. He takes a long deep breath and lets it out before walking over.

“Nice work today,” he says, taking a seat. “Never did like admin myself, but I have to say, all this is a welcome break from combat.”

Cats gives him the briefest of glances. “Is this what we’re doing now? Forgetting we were ever--just, being colleagues.”

Theron’s smile freezes. He looks away. The table has pockmarks. He fingers one. “If this is what we have to do to get through this, then yeah, I guess so. We’re still colleagues, after all. We still have to work together.”

Cats puts her head in her hands. She mutters, “Don’t screw the crew, that’s what Mom always said.” She sighs. “Corso. Risha--I wish. Lana. You. Fuck. What have I done.”

That’s not a question he’s supposed to answer, so he stays quiet. So does she. They sit there, not looking at each other, not touching their drinks. The noise of the cantina drifts by. People will be watching them. Voyeurs, curious to see the trainwreck first hand and report on it to their friends. Neither of them need that.

Theron taps the table. “I’ll leave you to your drink.”

“Stay,” Cats blurts. Theron pauses mid stand. “Stay.”

Theron sits. Cats gulps her beer. When she sets it down, she looks everywhere but at Theron. He doesn’t know what to say, and neither does Cats, it seems. Still, if company is what she wants, then he’ll give it, gladly, despite the audience.

“How’s the crew?” he asks. It’s not much, but it’s the best he can offer.

“Fine. Corso’s wife’s pregnant. I’m giving them a ship. Corso says they want to stay on mine, but knowing my luck she’ll end up pushing it out when I’m flying through an angry blockade. It’s safer that they have their own.”

Theron hmms. “Give them my congratulations.”

“Yeah.”

The silence returns. Still, this is the most she’s said to him since he came back.

“Lana’s been trying to find Imperial sympathisers,” he says.“Not many of them after what I did on Iokath--”

“Don’t talk about work, Theron. You always talk about work.”

He lets the flash of annoyance roll off him.

“Have you heard from Satele?” Cats asks.

_And you always talk about family_.

The question hits him like a punch. He opens and closes his mouth. No more lies, that’s what he’s told himself. “Yeah. Yeah, we’ve talked.”

(His holo chimes. He answers. Satele flicks into view.

“Theron, you’re alive! I felt you through the Force. I thought… I thought the worst.”

He starts weeping.

“Has Cats forgiven you?”

He shakes his head. Tears splat on his lap. Of course she knows what he’s done.

“She will. Give her time.”

“The Force tell you that or are you a relationship counsellor now?” He regrets the words as soon as they come out. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

“Give her time.”)

“How’s her boyfriend?”

Theron jerks up. “Her what?”

“Boyfriend. Darth Marr.”

Theron stutters.

Cats laughs. It’s just a chuckle but it’s the best sound Theron’s ever heard. “I mean, I’m just assuming, but what else are you gonna do if you’re stuck on a planet with just a ghost for company? How would they even do it? Can he, you know, get it up?”

“She’s not--Marr isn’t--”

Cats laughs again.

Theron blushes. “She didn’t mention Marr. She’s left Odessen. Something about it being time. She’s helping rebuild with the other jedi.”

“Nice.”

They go back and forward for a few more minutes, chatting about mutual acquaintances. It’s nice. Awkward, but nice. But Theron’s not about to get his hopes up.

When Cats sets her empty glass on the table, she drums her fingers. “Time I headed back.”

She stands and Theron looks up at her. “Yeah, okay. Hey, thanks for the drink. You want me to walk you?”

She smiles, one sided. Theron watches her walk away. Maybe Satele was right.

*

She doesn’t hate him any more. She doesn’t know what to do about that. She hated Skavak so she shot him. She hated Darmas so she shot him, too. She hated Valkorian, and she supposed she got to shoot him in the end, sort of.

She hated Saresh but didn’t shoot her, but that was because she couldn’t just go around shooting heads of state, as stupid and annoying as they can be.

She hated Arcann, still hates Arcann, but she doesn’t shoot him, either. She can’t do that to Senya.

She hasn’t shot Theron.

She’s losing her reputation. The galaxy used to be so black and white.

She doesn’t hate him any more. Just feels a weird longing when she sees him, when he speaks at meetings. It’s not the good kind of longing, the one she gets in her pants. It’s in her chest. It’s hollow. Numb. Aching, like a sore tooth. It’s not sexy at all. And it’s not hate.

She misses him. She misses the caf he brings her in the morning, she misses his stupid laugh. She misses his kisses, his fingers, his mouth and tongue.

She knows she can’t go back to how they were, and she thinks Theron understands why. She hopes that means he’ll never do something so stupid again, but there’s an idiot underneath all that smart and if he’s dumb enough to shave the sides of his head once, he’s dumb enough to do it twice.

She’s joking.

But the hair was pretty bad.

She wonders if she should ask Mom and Dad for their opinion. No point asking Risha. Or Corso. No, this is a situation only for the two of them.

She doesn’t hate him. She misses him.

She pinches a slicer spike from his pocket when they’re crowding around a detailed holo display of some boring farming planet. Ossus, or whatever. Lana will tell her if it’s important. She slides the spike into her own jacket--Theron’s jacket, once, long ago. She doesn’t know what she’ll use it for yet, but she’s a smuggler. It pays to be prepared.

She misses him.

She misses him so much.

**Author's Note:**

> They'll be fine.......


End file.
